


skin

by apaciere



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Partners, Barebacking, Bottom Draco, Hung Harry Potter, M/M, Originally Posted in Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Song: Skin by Rihanna, Top Harry, Top Harry Potter, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Wall Sex, a very dirty song!fic, it's from an ask, self indulgent TRASH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apaciere/pseuds/apaciere
Summary: Harry Potter is infuriatingly oblivious to Draco's advances. Draco eventually decides that a direct approach is the best way to be de-virginized.





	skin

**Author's Note:**

> hi y'all iz ya girl marge bringing u some smut from an anon ask go follow me while ur at it https://ladyyinburgundy.tumblr.com/

 

I was absolutely overjoyed when Potter invited me over to his place after having a pint or two at the pub after work. I was under the impression that my fantasies—which, if I’m not lying, started during our Sixth Year in Hogwarts—were about to be turned into a reality.

Were those fantasies of the sexual nature, you ask?

My answer would be an utterly shameless  _yes_. One would have to be a fool not to notice how Potter has aged like fine wine, growing several inches taller and broadening out deliciously. And yes, I would regularly deny Pansy’s insinuations about how my frolicking around at the Ministry gym on weekdays is just an excuse to get a glimpse of Potter’s shirtless, sweaty body lifting weights and other strenuous exercises that were basically a feast for the eyes— but I’m a Malfoy  _and_ a Slytherin. I would be putting those names to shame if I let that bint weasel the truth out of me so easily.

My cock was half hard in my (purposely) tight jeans by the time we Apparated to his front door. The two shots of Firewhiskey I had consumed at the Leaky played a part in my near-aggressive suggestiveness, and I desperately hoped Potter would notice that I’m practically  _leaking_ already—

But the idiot, the absolute  _moron_ , did not seem to have seen through my unsubtle innuendos.

I sat there gritting my teeth in his ugly burgundy Gryffindor-loving sofa while he babbles on about work beside me, apparently having called me over because he  _wanted to know me, his Auror partner, better_ and that by inviting me over to his place he was getting rid of unnecessary boundaries between us. I was nearly in tears when he started talking about the Squib who got hit with a curse that replaced her hair with horse dung.

He then asked me if I wanted to stay a little late, and I was about to jump on him and vigorously rub myself on his lap when he stood up and put on a movie, grinning at me and saying that he hoped I was okay with horror.

I very nearly bashed his head on his stupid telly.

I was in a bad mood by the time the movie started, but I was gradually distracted from my internal seething as I watched the movie. By the time the scary parts started, my erection had all but wilted and I was shrieking and peeking out from behind one of Potter’s ugly, Gryffindor-loving throw pillows.

Potter, the damn bastard, was laughing the whole time.

I stuffed his face with a pillow, but that only seemed to humor him more. By then I was thinking about how retarded Muggles were for creating films that were made to purposely scare them shitless and then call it  _fun_.

But then our little pillow fight had escalated, and before I knew it I was straddling Potter’s lap with his large hands gripping my waist tightly. My deflated cock sprung up in a second, probably deserving a world record for that feat. I was aching with need as Potter continued to hold my gaze with his intense green eyes, the rather sizable erection pressing tantalizingly against my thigh.

And then Potter abruptly threw me off him and with burning cheeks, mumbled in a rushed voice under his breath that I should probably be heading home.

I had stared with incredulity and promptly marched off, Apparating right in the middle of the manor’s sitting room and nearly giving my Father a heart attack.

Although I left Potter’s flat that night still very much a virgin, I couldn’t say that I hadn’t enjoyed the time I spent with him. Potter, contrary to the brainless berk Pansy and I always thought he was, is actually really clever and surprisingly witty. He had a gorgeous smile and a charming laugh. His sense of humor and sarcasm would’ve made him a passable Slytherin. He was also stupidly kind and a genuinely nice person.

And I didn’t like the way my thoughts were going, so I focused instead on how good he would look on top of me, pounding my arse with abandon.

After that night, things were a little…  _tense_ between us. We still bickered a lot, though it lacked the bite it used to have when we were young. Potter still bought me those jam drops I adored when he arrives at the office in the morning. I was still the one who made him tea and ratted his ears off whenever he would leave his empty mugs around the office. And thankfully, we still went at the pub every Friday after work.

But the accidental touching of our skin elicited a different reaction from Potter now, as opposed to the indifference he showed before. His eyes darken when our gazes meet and we’re stuck in a narrow alleyway during a stakeout. His hands on my hips linger just a tad longer than necessary after he’s pulled me out of a curse’s way. His hands would clench into fists when someone makes a move on me, his jaw ticking dangerously. Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, I would notice how his gaze would drop to my lips. He would pretend that he was not staring at my arse when I bend over to grab some files from the drawers.

And yet he still hasn’t invited me over to his place again.

When I voiced out my vexations to Pansy, she told me Potter wasn’t going to make the first move because he’s too oblivious to notice that I want him—and that the only thing left to do is for  _me_ to invite  _him_ over.

After days of stressful worrying and wanking, I decided to do just that.

-

I watch with wicked glee as Potter’s eyes darken when I open the front door wearing nothing but an over-sized shirt and a pair of skimpy black shorts—but of course Potter doesn’t know about that yet, since the shirt went all the way down the top of my knees. It's all very cliched, but Pansy assured me that it would work spectacularly. I trust Pansy. Mostly. 

“Potter,” I greet amiably with my trademark smirk, “How nice of you to join me.”

“Didn’t have a reason to refuse,” Potter says gruffly. He's wearing his black leather jacket. He must've ridden his godfather's motorbike here. I swallow, I laugh and step aside to let him in.

His eyes wander around my flat for a moment before flicking back to me, gaze dropping down my bare legs before snapping back up to my face, his body tense and rigid. He goes for a smile. 

“I’m rather hungry.” He rubs his stomach for effect. “Would you mind if we dig in immediately?”

“Not at all,” I answer graciously before turning around and leading him to the dining room. I could feel his eyes on my arse and I suppress a shiver.  _It's working. I know it is._

He sits down on the table in front of me and practically salivates at the vegetable pasta I had cooked for him. “I didn’t know you could cook,” he says, sounding amazed. He's distracted. Momentarily, of course. Soon he will not be able to take his eyes off me. I watch his wild black hair frame his gorgeous face and accentuate his stubbled, chiseled jaw. Impatience gnaws at me, threatening to ruin my perfectly detailed plan. I don't waver at the temptation. Everything needs to be perfect for this first time. 

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Potter,” I answer lightly, tracing my lips on the rim of the glass of wine I’m holding. He barely spares my answer an acknowledgment before digging in like a starving wolf, groaning in satisfaction at the taste. I sit back, smug. 

“Does it taste good?” I ask after he’s finished ravaging the food, although I already know the answer.

“Heavenly,” he practically moans, “You’re a fucking good cook, Malfoy, did you know that? I can almost say I’m blessed to have been invited by you.”

 _Good, because I spent nearly three weeks perfecting that_ , I think inwardly before I sip my wine.

“I also have dessert,” I mention, setting my glass down and placing my elbows on the table, propping my face on my hands, “Would you like some?”

He’s staring at my lips again. “Sounds good,” he answers, reverting his gaze back to my eyes. Electricity crackles in the air. He knows I know that he wants to kiss me. He knows that I know that he knows this game I've devised. The pieces are falling impeccably into place. I would have to thank Pansy, who apparently had practice as a professional seductress (or so she claimed), for helping me out with this. Now I am almost a hundred percent sure that this coy chase I've set up is bound to end in my favor. 

I stand up to open the fridge and bend over to retrieve the ice cream I had bought from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, purposely displaying my shorts-clad arse. I bite my lip when I hear Potter choke on his wine, stifling a laugh. I moved with sensuous purpose, determined to push each and every one of Potter's buttons until he snapped in the best way. 

I straighten back up, holding the tub of ice cream in my hands. I head to the counter to grab some small bowls on the top shelf, Potter’s sputter at the baring of my behind not unheard by my keen ears. It's a spiderweb of dirty tactics, of carefully timed enticement. It's an allure Potter would not be able to resist, I am sure of it. 

After I’m done sorting the ice cream, I place the tub back on the fridge and placed the two ice-cream filled bowls on the table, sitting back down, pretending not to have noticed the way Potter rakes his gaze all over my body, pretending that it didn't send shivers down my spine despite my (shameful) inexperience. 

“Vanilla,” I say in a lilting voice, smiling a little. Potter doesn’t answer, staring intently at my exposed shoulder where the shirt slipped off. Every move is precisely calculated, personally crafted to push at Potter's inhibitions and his admirable control. A Slytherin does not do anything without his usual grace or the addictive potency of his venom that would leave anyone thirsting for ruination once they've tasted it. 

_**—the mood is set so you already know what’s next** _

I scoop up a bit of ice cream and placed it inside my mouth, moaning lightly, knowing that Potter would be losing his control faster if I do so. I drag the spoon out from my mouth slowly, licking the tip as I look at Potter with hooded eyes. Dirty tactics. Fashioned wantonness. 

He snarls, hand tightening around his spoon. He is wound tight like a bowstring with restraint, and I'm enjoying myself immensely. 

“I know what you’re doing, Malfoy,” he says tightly, “and it’s not going to work.”

I bite back my irritation as I give him another smile that I’m sure infuriated him even more.

“What’s holding you back, Potter?” I ask, genuinely confused. 

“Me,” he answers roughly, “I’m holding myself back.”

 _“Why?”_ I shoot back in a half-shout, feeling extremely frustrated now. I'm aware that I'm losing grip of my plans, and I try to reign back the control I have over myself before-

“Because I don’t know what I’m going to do if this is only a one time thing,” Potter replies in a low voice, dark brows furrowed as he tried to reign in his emotions, “I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me for another man afterwards. I don’t know what I’ll do if I see another man  _touching_ you after I—”  

Potter breaks off in a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already impossible hair. “You don’t understand, Malfoy,” he snaps his head back to me so suddenly I was startled. "You've driven me to madness. Can't you see that?"

“So why don’t you just  _let go_?” I sound like I am begging, and I couldn’t even bring myself to hate it. Perhaps because I  _am_ begging. Desperation soils my composed persona, and I don't give a damn. 

“Because once I fuck you, Malfoy, you’re  _mine_ ,” he says in a low growl, “and I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“Are you implying that I only see you as a cock to sate me?” I seethe, standing up and slamming my hands on the table, “Because if you find me to be such a  _slut_ , then I’ll be off. You can ruin my flat if you want. I hope you don’t mind if I get out and find myself a juicy little pull for tonight."

I turn around to leave and Potter was onto me so fast I nearly had a whiplash. He grabs my wrist in a crushing grip as he turns me around slams me against the nearest wall, his wine-scented breath filling my nostrils. A staggering surge of arousal had me weakening almost instantly. 

“Shh,” he whispers, and I see the shadows fall over his bright green eyes, “You don’t want to go talking about that in front of me.”

I gasp as his erection presses against my own. “Fuck—!”

He pins my wrists to the wall above me with one hand as the other snakes down to palm my weeping cock. The sensations are driving me crazy. “You have no idea how crazy you drove me tonight,” he murmurs conversationally in my ear, licking the shell, “The minute I saw you in that fucking shirt with nothing on your legs I had wanted to pin you down the floor and fuck you until my come is leaking out your arse—”

“Fuck, Potter—!” I keen as he licked and sucked at my collarbone while he said those filthy words and it felt  _so fucking good I was close to losing my mind_ —

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you Malfoy?” he asks conversationally, letting go of my wrists to knead my arse cheeks roughly, “Wearing practically nothing and being a little fucking  _tease_ _—”_

“I’m glad to see my seduction worked,” I respond, voice breathy, “If only you weren’t such a fucking  _chicken_ I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to—”

I break into full body shivers as Potter slips his hands down my shorts to knead my cheeks, fingers ghosting along my crack, rubbing his clothed cock on my erection. I moan loudly, unreservedly, and it seems to rile Potter up into an unbridled frenzy. The friction of our rutting, his fingers nearing my most private place-it's all too much. 

**_—you got me moaning now  
_ **

“Oh, it worked rather spectacularly, Malfoy,” Potter chuckles darkly, and I would call it uncharacteristic if I hadn't suspected that there always lied a darkness within Potter that I've yearned to expose and provoke. Potter gives in to the animalistic urge, lets himself kneel at the mercy of corruption. It all serves to set my nerves on fire. “And tonight, just like you wanted, I’m going to fuck you. No one will ever get the privilege to do so again after I’m done with you—”

“You—” I try to get the words out through the assault Potter was doing to me and it was so very difficult I nearly gave up, but I had to say it.  _I had to_. “You’re going to be the first one.”

Potter stops, and along with him the rotating of my earth in its axis. 

I’m panting and panicking at the same time, wondering if I said the wrong thing. 

And then he moves again, this time with a ferocity that sent my blood on fire, banishing my momentary panic. He was relentless in his attack on my body, setting every part of me burning with his touch, his mouth marking me and kissing me in a way that told me he’s completely lost control of himself.

And I  _loved_ it, loved it more than I could describe in coherent words. 

He wraps my weakened legs around his waist, entwining us together. He wrenches his mouth away from mine to stare intently into my eyes. “You’re a virgin?” he asks breathlessly, flushed. I was glad to notice I wasn’t the only one being driven crazy here. 

I nod with a hint of embarrassment. _Purebloods are supposed to wait for marriage._ He emits a low whine before he slides a finger into me, and I don’t even have time to be surprised that he had wordlessly and wandlessly lubricated his fingers because I  _screamed_ , the pain-pleasure that assaulted my system too much for me to handle.

And I come.

I come with shortened breaths and Potter looks at me as if I was the only existing thing in the world.

I was whimpering in his shoulder by the time my orgasm ends and my shorts are sticky with my come. My cheeks felt flushed, and I was still trying to regain my bearings after that intense orgasm when Potter slips another finger into me, still staring at me with his mouth slightly open and his gorgeous eyes glazed over.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “ _Fuck_ , Draco, you’re fucking  _beautiful._ ”

I was shaking in his arms from overstimulation, my arse clenching around the intrusion of Potter’s fingers. It's too much,  _it's too much_ , I'm oversensitive around his fingers-

“Potter,” I whimper, squirming, emitting helpless moans I can't seem to stop, “Potter, stop, I just came — I can’t —”

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers against my ear, moving his fingers faster. I arched into his body, my limp cock filling up again. It's unbelievable. I feel drunk on sinful euphoria, on wine borne of the seed of insatiability. 

“Potter—”

“Do you  _want_ me to  _stop_ , Malfoy?” Potter asks again, stopping the movement of his fingers, and I whine in response. “Because I will if you want to,” he continues gently, genuinely.

I grit my teeth, raw honesty escaping my swollen, reddened lips. 

“No.”

Potter continues with renewed hunger at my admission. He slides another finger inside and another until he’s fucking me with four fingers. I wail loudly as he hits my prostate repeatedly, already on the verge of coming yet again. His fingers felt so criminally good inside me, I was sure I’d never let anyone but him do this to me. I'm barely aware of my continuous stream of debauched moaning. 

But then he retreats his fingers out of my pulsating hole.

“What are you  _doing?!”_ I screech, pushing my arse back into his hand, a filthy show of desperation. 

Potter doesn’t answer.

I promptly shut up in the middle of my complaints when he rips my shorts apart with his bare hands, leaving my entire half naked. His brutish strength leaves me breathless, and I suspect it will be another weakness of mine. He unzips his flies and takes out his enormous cock that stole my fucking breath away.

Mother of  _Merlin,_ Potter is fucking  _hung._

I don’t even have time to think before he fucks into me with one smooth thrust.

I was  _so sure_ my screams could be heard all the way from Hogwarts.

He was inside me,  _finally_ inside me and I couldn’t even begin to explain how amazing it felt. He was spreading me open with a pain that stung and a pleasure that rattled my very being. Potter was groaning brokenly, and I could feel his cock twitch inside me. The sensation claws at my sanity as I writhe in his arms, legs spread for him like a common whore hungry for his come to settle deep inside me, for his mark to burn permanently into me. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasps out, voice rough with unchecked desire, “so fucking  _good_ I could stay inside you  _for_ fucking  _ever_ —”

“Move!” I demand in a hoarse shout, clenching my arse around his cock, relishing the burn. 

That did it for him.

He starts thrusting into me with animal abandon, pounding me into the wall. His hands were gripping my hips tightly, leaving bruises I would probably admire in front of the mirror as I recount the details of this spectacular moment. I was raking my nails in his back, close to drawing blood, my neck bared as he suckles and bites at it. It's like he's marking his territory, and I do the same as I bite down on the tendon of his neck, reveling in the deep sound of his groan. 

His cock batters my prostate directly and it honestly felt like I’m never going to be whole again after this—not until Potter’s fucking me, that is.

I could tell he was trying to be gentle, the prince charming prat, but he was having a hard time doing it. I hiss as I grip his back tighter, bucking into his cock with a shamelessness that would have Father getting a cardiac arrest.

“Harder,” I wheeze out, thrashing and moaning rather whorishly, “ _Harder,_ Potter—”  

**_—don’t hold back you know I like it rough  
_ **

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he grits out and I leaned in to kiss him, all teeth and tongue and indecency. He splits my lower lip open with how harshly he kissed me back, but the pain only served to make my looming orgasm draw nearer. 

“For goodness’ sake, Potter,” I cry out, “Fuck me harder before I find another man—!”

I didn’t mean it, of course. How could I ever let any other man touch me after this? It's laughable. 

But it seemed to do the work, because Potter was completely uncontrollable after that. He  _snarls_ , gripping my arse cheeks in a punishing grip before biting the sweet spot on my neck. He kisses me again, massaging my cheeks roughly and hitting my prostate dead on.

**_—you’re a beast you know that i like that  
_ **

I come with an intensity I never thought possible, my screams reverberating through the entirety of my flat.

I shudder as I hear his hoarse groan, feeling him come inside me. 

He slumps against me, boneless and exhausted. We stood there against the wall, still entwined together, come cooling on our shirts as we try to recover from the mind-blowing coupling we just did.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he says after our minds have cleared and he was nuzzling my neck. I manage a laugh. “You’re rather dashing yourself,” I reply.

Silence again.

“The ice cream melted," I note.

He smiles against my skin.


End file.
